One Scout, Two Scout, RED Scout, BLU Scout
by ChaosandMayhem
Summary: The BLU Scout thought he knew the rules of a rivalry...and none of those rules involved babysitting that idiot RED Scout. Another 'deleted scene' oneshot from Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler.


"OOOH IT'S A NEW STORY FROM CHAOS-"

"Don't get excited, she's just derping around with Baby Scoot again."

"Dammit."

Yo, 'sup guys? Happy to see me back with Scout? Yes? OH GOOD. Because we've got double the Scoot in here! A scene between Baby Scoot and BLU Scoot has been requested more than a few times now, so here we go!

First, I'd like to thank Jinny the Kisaragi for her beta work; Belphegor for being Belphegor; 2tonocean for some amazing EMAT fanart over on Tumblr (go look at it guys it makes my heart happy!); and PastelWinter and AFreshlyPickedPlum for kickstarting my faltering muse into gear.

**Yeah, I dare ya, make a disclaimer. C'mon, make us both happy.**

* * *

One Scout, Two Scout, RED Scout, BLU Scout

Across the vast expansion of time, cultures all across the world have dealt with raising children. From the grunting Neanderthal mothers to the prim nannies of Victorian times, from tough-as-nails child warriors to the plucky little street-rats, it seems as though every culture, every society, every nation, has had the best interest of their children at heart.

However, for all the grandiose trysts on "children as the future" and "we must protect the children", there was one singular, stunning aspect of a child that could send even the heartiest of men scrambling for cover.

And that formidable weapon of seemingly defenseless children?

Why, their voice, of course.

"SOMEONE PLEASE SHUT HIM UP!"

"I'M TRYING! I'M TRYING! WHY DON'T YOU HELP INSTEAD OF JUST STANDING THERE?!"

"Fellas, c'mon, let's be reasonable here—"

The BLU Scout's plea was lost under yet another ear-shattering shriek from the toddler sitting on the worn couch. For such a little boy he packed one hell of a pair of lungs, and the scream lasted for a good two minutes. The present BLUs cowered under the sheer force of the child's voice.

The BLU Scout couldn't help but to notice the child was turning the strangest shade of purple, and while he couldn't claim to be an expert on childcare he knew that purple wasn't one of the colors children were supposed to be.

The boy sucked in another breath between gulping sobs. A gross mixture of snot and tears dribbled down his chin.

The Soldier glared at the Sniper. "Fix this."

"What do you want me to do?" The Sniper snarled, throwing the American and the toddler dirty looks. "Wrap duct tape around his mouth?"

"That would shut 'im up." The Spy muttered, flicking his lighter shut as the end of his cigarette lit up. "Get the laborer, 'e could do it."

"Engie's busy," the Sniper retorted, folding his arms over his chest, "why don't you do somethin'? Yer the one who brought him here!"

"Oui," The Spy blew smoke into the Aussie's face, making him jump backwards and wipe at his eyes furiously, "and therefore my job is done."

The Soldier's eyes narrowed suddenly. "SHHH!"

"We…'ave not said…anything…"

"SHHHH!"

It was then the Aussie and the Frenchman heard what the Soldier had first.

Silence.

Instantly the three adults spun around again to face the couch.

The BLU Scout had the toddler on his knee, bouncing him up and down as the child examined the baseball he'd been given. "Isa ball," he glanced up to the older Scout, "isa nice ball!"

"Thanks, little dude!" The BLU Scout beamed down at the boy. "I thought you might like it."

Scout nodded vigorously as he ran his sticky fingers over the stitching. "Likea baz-ball!" He ran a hand under his nose, sliming it with tears and snot.

"Ugh, wicked gross! Someone get the kid a tissue or somethin'!"

When there was no answer, the BLU Scout glanced up, puzzled. He titled his head to the side as he studied his stunned teammates. "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you do that," Soldier pointed an accusatory finger towards the toddler, "earlier?"

"Well…ya didn't _ask_." The BLU Scout half-shrugged. The toddler settled back into the bony young man's lap, content to spin the baseball around in his hands. "I mean, he woke up screamin' and yose guys just started yellin' at each other—"

The baseball slipped from the toddler's hands and he made a faint noise of surprise and concern. The BLU Scout allowed him to slip off his lap, watching the boy chase after the baseball with a slight smile. "Ya know, he's kinda cute. I've got a buncha little cousins and nieces and nephews back home, he kinda reminds me-a them…" His gaze flickered back to his fellow BLUs.

Or, rather, where his fellow BLUs should have been.

The BLU Scout jumped to his feet, clenching his fists when he realized he'd been ditched. "YO! Fellas, ya can't just leave me with this kid, I ain't qualified to look after him or nut-tin—!"

A slight tugging on his pants made him look down.

The little RED Scout smiled up at him, holding up the ball in order to show it off. "Got it."

"Uh…that's nice, little dude. Why don't you go, ah, play or somethin'?"

The boy's mouth turned down at the corners. "Nono. Uppy uppy!"

"….what?"

"Uppy," The boy repeated the word slowly, as if the BLU Scout were a complete idiot, "uppy." He stuck his hands up into the air expectantly.

The BLU Scout blinked, glanced around, and then hefted the boy into his arms. For a moment the two Scouts stared at each other, uncertain of what the other wanted.

"Well," The BLU stuck his tongue into his cheek, "I guess we should staht from the beginnin', right? Ya can call me Scout."

If it were possible for a small child to do a double-take, the RED managed it. He craned his neck backwards, eyes wide. "Mesa Scout."

"Yeah, I'm a Scout, and ya a Scout…"

"Nononononono," the child shook his head furiously, "_mesa_ Scout."

The idea of there being more than one Scout in existence apparently didn't occur to the toddler.

The BLU thought for a long moment before sighing in defeat. "Okay then…I guess…ya can call me Tom."

"Thom?"

"Tom."

"THOM!"

"Eh, close enough, I guess."

"Thom," The RED poked his grubby little finger into Tom's shoulder before sweeping the finger back to his own chest, "Scout."

"That's about right, little dude." Tom made to lowered Scout to the ground again, but stopped when the boy tightened his grip. Contrary to what his teammates might have thought, Tom wasn't the biggest idiot around, especially not when it came to children. Hailing from a family as huge as his had done some good. He knew about children…hell, he almost liked them, provided they weren't screaming their heads off.

Okay, maybe he had nearly laughed himself to death when he first saw the babified RED Scout. But now, it was almost easy to forget that this was the trash-talking, obnoxious RED faggot. The person in his arms was…just a little kid.

Scout's bright blue eyes roved over Tom's thoughtful expression before reaching up to tug on his hat. "Want."

"Uh, that's a huuuuuge negative, little dude." Tom flicked his baseball cap higher onto his head and just out of Scout's reach. "This is _my_ hat."

Scout stuck his tongue out, scrunching his face up in irritation. The irritation turned to shock and then glee as Tom loosened his grip, nearly dropping Scout and catching him at the last minute.

Scout shrieked with glee. "A-gen! A-gen!"

"All right, little dude…ready….don't fall!" He half-dropped Scout again, grinning when the little guy howled with glee. The giggles were infectious, and soon the BLU Scout found himself chuckling along. "We're gonna go high now, okay? UP!"

Scout roared as he was tossed into the air before landing back into the safety of Tom's arms. His face was red again, this time with laughter. He pressed his face into Tom's shoulder, body wracked with giggles.

_This was a RED_, a tiny voice in Tom's mind chided, and wasn't just any RED. _It was his counterpart, his rival, the bastard he fought nearly every day. This was that no-good, dirty-rotten, sonuvabitch RED Scout._

And he was absolutely _adorable_.

Tom shoved the voice to the very back of his mind, content to let it fume there for the time being. Scout snuggled up into the crook of his neck, yawning. "Ya still tired, little dude?"

"Yeah," Scout mumbled, digging into one eye with a fist. He yawned again.

"Okay, well, I guess you can sleep in my room. S'more comfortable than the couch." He started towards the hall, but Scout made a faint protesting noise and pointed back to the couch. "What's wrong, little dude?"

"Cy!" Scout clambered over Tom's shoulder, finger hovering in the air. "Cy! CY!"

Puzzled, Tom wandered back over the couch and set Scout down. He watched Scout pat around the faded and stained cushions, searching for something. Finally he dug his hand down the back of the couch, withdrawing several pennies, a half of a cookie and a small rectangular object.

Scout dropped the pennies and cookie with little interest, turning the rectangle over and over in his hands to make sure it was all right. Tom crouched down to eye-level with Scout, clasping his hands together. "Whatcha got there?"

"Cy," Scout grinned and held up the card in order to show it off, "baz-ball!"

Tom's eyes went wide with envy as he took in Scout's most prized possession. "No freakin' way! That's a vintage Cy Young! How'd ya get ya hands on that?!" He reached out to grab the baseball card away from the toddler.

Scout pulled the baseball card to his chest, eyes narrowing. "Mine."

"Okay, okay, fine, it's yours…" His next words were spoken with a plea: "Can I just look at it?"

Cautiously, very cautiously, Scout revealed Cy Young's baseball card to Tom, who drank in the card with the fervor of a true baseball enthusiast. Tom whistled low, deeply impressed. "That's near-mint, that is. Ya been carryin' that around all day?"

Scout nodded before another huge yawn escaped him. He stuck his hands up into the air expectantly, a wide smile breaking out of his face when Tom scooped him up and carried him out of the rec room, this time with Cy Young firmly in hand.

In the hall Tom paused, head tilted to the side as he listened to the sounds of his team enjoying the last few hours of ceasefire. Demoman, Soldier, and Heavy were swapping war stories in the mess hall. There was the consistent whirring of machinery in the distance, indicating that Engineer was messing around with some new contraption or another. That meant Pyro was probably with him—the firebug seemed to enjoy watching Engineer tinker. The whine of gears clashed suddenly with the din of classical music—Medic's equivalent of a "Do Not Disturb" sign. And somehow or another Spy had gotten his hands on a pack of Cuban cigars, and Tom would have bet all the money in his piggy bank the Frenchman and Sniper were currently out back, chugging their way through the Cubans.

"I guess it's just you and me, little dude." He started making his way up the stairs slowly, wary of his grip on Scout slipping.

He couldn't help but wonder if the REDs had noticed the boy was gone yet as he passed by a window. Every light in the RED base was ablaze, and he could almost see the distant figures darting in and out of the base, searching for Scout…

Tom's grip on the sleepy boy tightened a bit. The REDs were going to be furious when they realized what the BLUs had done. He just hoped Spy knew what he was doing.

Shaking his head to clear the dreary thoughts, Tom finished his ascent to the upstairs hallway and slipped into his bedroom.

When the door closed, Scout stirred in his arms, blinking owlishly and looking around the room.

Red and blue weren't the only differences between the youngest members of their respective teams—Scout prided himself on keeping everything in his bedroom neat and organized. Tom, however…

Well, Tom was an absolute slob.

Loose papers and dirty magazines littered the floor, accompanied by crushed cans of Bonk! Atomic Punch. The sheets on his bed were rumbled, the blanket lying on a heap on the floor. His uniform pants and shirts were scattered around the room in varying degrees of cleanliness. A desk had been shoved up against one wall, and it was covered in half-written letters, dog-eared photographs, trinkets and bobbles and what looked to be a human molar. A moldy sandwich sat under a flickering lamplight, rotting away beside three half-full cans of Bonk!.

"Yum!" Scout pointed to the Bonk! cans eagerly. "Wanna try."

"Uh…that's Blutonium Berry, ya sure ya like that kind?"

Scout wrinkled his nose. "No. Cheddy."

"The cherry kind is gross." Tom looked around the room again, suddenly self-conscious about his cleaning habits—or lack thereof. He set Scout down, watching the little guy toddle around the room. "Ahh, careful, that's my bat!"

Scout, who had been inches away from grabbing Tom's best bat, froze and pouted. It wasn't long, however, before something else caught his eye. "Fwash!"

Tom glanced up from peeling a pair of stinky socks off of the floor. "Erm, what?"

"Fwash!" Scout repeated, digging eagerly into a pile of magazines. He produced one, staggered back a bit, and spun around to show it Tom. "Fwash!"

Tom's eyes widened in delight. "No way! You like the Flash too?!"

"Go fast-fast!" Scout swung the comic book through the air, "Fast-fast Fwash!"

"Yeah, exactly!" Tom leapt onto his bed, ancient springs creaking madly as he did so. "Flash is wicked cool! Batman is a lot more badass, though."

Scout looked heavily affronted as he clutched the Scarlet Speedster to his chest. "Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

It continued like this for several minutes, for Tom had yet to learn that debating with a toddler was as effective as debating with a cat. Scout even hissed a bit as he clambered up onto the bed, glaring daggers at Tom. "Fwash," he growled as he shoved the comic book into Tom's lap, "weed!"

Tom scowled down at the Scarlet Speedster. "What?"

"Weed!" Scout tapped the cover with arched eyebrows. "Okay?"

"Oh," Tom drew the word out for a minute, realizing what Scout wanted from him, "oh, ah, sure." He flipped the comic book open to the front cover, clearing his throat. "The Flash," his voice deepened dramatically, "in 'The Big Freeze'—"

The sensation of a small body curling up in the crook of his body made Tom paused. He looked down, staring at Scout, who peered over at the colorful pages. Tom half-smiled, allowed Scout to curl up just a little bit closer, and continued to read.

It wasn't his favorite story, but it was all right. Captain Cold was a pretty good villain and while he liked the Flash, the speedster certainly wasn't as awesome as Batman. Scout, however, paid rapt attention the entire way through, furiously blinking sleep away as exhaustion threatened to overtake him again.

Scout pointed to Captain Cold's picture as he yawned. "Engie."

Tom squinted at the villain. "Yeah, ya kinda right, little dude. Those goggles do make him look like Engie!"

"And…" Scout considered the Flash carefully, "Spoi!"

"Annnnd that's a _hell no_. Flash ain't no Spy!"

Scout traced his finger around the Flash's cowl. "See! Spoi!"

"Ya mean like his mask?"

Scout nodded furiously. Tom chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered the Flash's lean features. "Okay, well, the mask is close. But everything else is waaaaay off—hey, w-what's the matter?"

For Scout's bottom lip had begun to quiver madly, and the longer he looked at the Flash the more it trembled. Big, fat tears formed at the corners of his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. "S-Sp-Spoi…" he whimpered, "w-want Spoi…"

Tom was smart enough to know that it wasn't the BLU Spy Scout was talking about. "Oh. Well, you'll see him tomorrow, little dude. Probably, I guess."

This did nothing to placate the increasingly hysterical toddler, who was taking big, deep gulps of air now. His little hands had curled into little fists, the tears falling fast and freely.

_Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no…..don't do this, little dude, don't do this, I don't know what to do… _

His mind clawed backwards in time desperately, struggling to remember what his mother had done to soothe him when he was scared and felt alone.

The answer hit him so hard his forehead ached a bit.

He eased away from Scout and darted over to the light switch, flicking it off. Scout's cries intensified in the darkness, not even eased when Tom gave the lamp a vicious shake, jolting the bulb into full brightness. He sniffled heavily as Tom bounced back onto the bed. "Shhh, little dude," Tom pressed a finger to his lips, "ya don't wanna scare the bunny away, do ya?"

Scout pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, whimpering. Tom gave him a friendly nudge. "C'mon, little dude, look! S'a bunny."

Scout peered out from behind his hands, jumping when he saw the silhouette of a bunny against the wall. "B-bunny?"

"Yeah, see!" Tom moved his hand up and down carefully, making the bunny bounce. "Uh-oh, he's hopping away!"

"Bye bunny," Scout whispered, watching with wide eyes as Tom's hand moved into the darkness. A faint whine stirred in his throat.

"Oh no, no, no! Look! See, his friend Mistah Duck came along!" A duck appeared on the wall. Tom moved his fingers up and down, making the duck's mouth move. "Uh-oh, Mistah Duck doesn't know how to quack! D'you know? Ya gotta teach 'im!"

"Quack," Scout called to the duck, sitting forward a little, "quack, quack!"

A wide smile broke out over Tom's face. "Yeah, that's it! Quack, quack, quack! Mistah Bunny, wait for me! Quack quack! All right, who's coming next?"

"Ah…" Scout scrunched his face up, "ah…puppy!"

"Okay! Woof-woof!" A dog appeared on the illuminated wall. "Hey Mistah Dog! How ya doin'?"

"Woof!" Scout exclaimed excitedly. "Woof-woof! Bye puppy!" He giggled as Tom moved his hands up and down, making it appear as though the dog were running off the wall. "Whoa, now who's comin' in?"

Scout gasped in delight as a butterfly appeared the wall, flapping its wings gently. "Isa butt-fly!"

The butterfly disappeared for an instant as Tom fell backwards onto the bed, laughing so hard tears sprang into his eyes. He clutched at his stomach, struggling to get his rampant giggles under control. "Y-yeah, little dude," he buried his face into his covers in order to hide his grin, "yeah, that's a butt-fly."

He sat up again, and together they went through most of the zoo—elephants and wolves and bears, oh my—growling and woofing at the illusions on the wall. With each successive animal Scout's voice grew softer and softer, his yawns more frequent, until finally he said "nigh-night" to the piggy and curled up into Tom's lap, fast asleep.

Tom smiled gently, running a hand through Scout's feathery hair. "G'night, little dude."

He glanced over at the clock, surprised at the time. One in the morning? Oh, he was _not_ looking forward to tomorrow.

_Tomorrow…_

His stomach clenched uncomfortably.

He really, really hoped Spy knew what he was doing.

**….**

It had been about a week since the Incident—as both RED and BLU had taken to calling it—and both Scouts had been successful in avoiding each other. Until now.

The RED Scout gave his bat a vicious swing against the metal fence, the rattle intimidating as he stalking forward. "Ya like a cah crash in slow motion. It's like I'm watchin' ya fly through a windshield."

From his position on the ground the BLU Scout wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, sneering at his counterpart's battered and bruised appearance. "Ya _look_ like ya flew through a windshield—"

He was cut off as the RED Scout pressed the tip of his bat to his throat, eyes narrowed. "I'm gonna bash ya face in."

_Thank God for Respawn_ was the only thing that darted through BLU Scout's mind before: "Butt-fly."

The RED Scout froze in his tracks as a wide, wide smile stretched across his rival's face. "That's right. Freakin' kid."

"Faggot."

After a moment, however, the pressure came off of the BLU's throat. He sat up, watching the RED back up with wary eyes. "Just this once, faggot." The RED sneered. "Just this once and that's—"

KA-BOOM!

The BLU Scout yelped as he splattered in the RED's blood, the corpse of his rival collapsing to the ground.

The BLU Sniper's triumphant cry of "Thanks for standin' still, wankah!" rang throughout the battlefield.

The BLU Scout remained still, head tilted to the side as he watched the RED's body slowly vanished into Respawn. He tightened his grip on his bat, took a deep breath, and lunged back into the bloody game of capture the flag.

* * *

I had so much fun writing this guys, you have no idea.

So much, in fact, that I'm willing to take requests if anyone wants to see any more Baby Scout moments I could probably deliver. Just a thought.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

~Chaos


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